Stereotypes of a Popular
by outside the crayon box
Summary: Have you ever wondered why popular girls are always stereotyped? Confident, beautiful, rich, smart, athletic, sweet, and more. No one can be that perfect. /or/ The story of real girls who honestly aren't perfect.
1. Chapter 1 - Massie

**MASSIE BLOCK (ALPHA OF THE PRETTY COMMITTEE)  
>STEREOTYPE: CONFIDENT<br>CONFIDENT: BELIEVING THAT YOU CAN DO SOMETHING WELL AND/OR SUCCEED AT SOMETHING**

* * *

><p>The last time I checked, confident is not a word that describes me.<p>

If I was so confident, I wouldn't wake up at 4:30 each morning to stress about my outfit.

If I was so confident, I wouldn't always be worried whether my friends will ditch me for someone cooler.

If I was so confident, I wouldn't always be worried whether _Derrick Harrington _will ditch me for someone cooler.

If I was so confident, I wouldn't have bullied Claire when she first came to Westchester.

Should I explain that one?

If I was so sure of my abilities, so certain of my Alpha spot, I wouldn't have felt threatened by Claire.

Not that I was worried Claire would actually _steal_ my spot.

But I _was_ worried that befriending her would mean people would think I was slipping. After all, if I openly admitted my friendship with _Kuh-laire_, it was only a short step until I was friends with _Layme_.

And _that _would be slipping.

{*_*_*}

Basically, I'm always worried/stressed/freaking out about something.

I mean, I always get this feeling I have to be _perfect_. But no one's really perfect, are they?

I'm certainly not.

The only time my outfits are tens are when Alicia picks them out.

The only time my hair is perfect is when Jakkob does it from scratch.

The only time I say the exact right thing is when I spend hours thinking about it the night before.

The only reason I keep from crying when I'm miserable is because I have my friends there to support me.

Obviously, I wouldn't be anything without other people helping me.

{*_*_*}

If I was confident, I would wear stained leggings and a baggy tank top to school.

I would let my hair be natural.

I wouldn't wear makeup.

I wouldn't be as mean to people, either.

Confidence is believing in yourself.

I sure don't believe in _my_self.

But I just fake it.

Because when you fake it, people believe.

Apparently.

* * *

><p><strong>I know what you're thinking: oh, no, another story.<strong>

**Sorry, guys. But I put No Match For Us on hiatus, so I'll have at least a little more time. And this was begging to be written.**

**If you hate it, I'll delete it, of course. **

**So please tell me what you think. Just a few words in that box down there will make me happy. A simple, 'Hey, this is really cool!' or 'You could do _ to improve' will be fantastic. I cherish every single review I get. You guys have no idea.**

**Heart ya,  
>Joy<strong>


	2. Chapter 2 - Claire

**CLAIRE LYONS (OMEGA OF THE PRETTY COMMITTEE)  
>STEREOTYPE: "THE SWEET ONE"<br>DEFINITION: THE PERSON IN A GROUP OF FRIENDS WHO IS ALWAYS REFERRED TO AND THOUGHT OF AS THE POLITE, KIND, UNDERSTANDING, AND INNOCENT ONE**

* * *

><p>First off, I <em>hate<em> when people think I can't do anything wrong: can't break the rules, can't take risks, can't even say "no."

I'll tell you all about the situation I'm in right now, and you can judge for yourself whether or not I'm so 'sweet.'

{*_*_*}

My story begins on a warm summer day. The sky is blue and cloudless, and the sun is shining full-force down on the lush green grass, which for once has actually gotten enough rain.

Doesn't this just sound _perfect_? Just another day for 'sweet Claire Lyons' to run free, and twirl around and around, her arms outstretched by her sides as she grins brilliantly?

(That's what I thought too.)

So I pick up the limited-edition Louis Vuitton beach tote Massie bought for me and head outside into the fresh air, planning to just sit down outside and enjoy a few rays of sun.

(They laughed because I wouldn't even wear a bikini; they had no idea I sunbathe topless.)

So I'm lying there, half-naked in the Block's backyard, when I hear a rustle behind me. "Mass?"

"No." The voice is rough, masculine, and for a second I think it's my boyfriend.

"Cam?"

"No."

I sit up in my lawn chair, wrapping my arms around my chest. "May I help you?"

"You can, in fact, Miss Lyons." And before I can even turn around, this man picks me up, gags me, and carries me out to a car.

{*_*_*}

As he sets me gently on a bed, I realize I must be a sight: my blond hair splayed out over the pillow, my cornflower-blue eyes wide, my skin pale, still half-naked, a piece of cloth still stuffed in my mouth.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm a little turned on.

(I'm sure you're finally realizing I'm not innocent; let's cross that one off the list.)

Then I catch a glimpse of the boy who stands above me. He's easily 5'10, with extremely tan skin and messy brown hair. Dark, dark brown eyes search my body.

More than a little turned on.

He's not gentle as he rips off my denim shorts to expose my bikini bottoms. "You're very pretty, Miss Lyons," he whispers in a deep Spanish accent, kissing my belly.

In one sudden movement, he grasps my wrists and forces them above my head, pinning them there with one large hand.

(I'm sure you know what happens next.)

{*_*_*}

At some point, I wake up. The sky outside the window is dark, and the man who kidnapped me is sound asleep next to me, breathing steadily.

(Why doesn't she leave, you're thinking.)

That's because I know this man. I know this man who kidnapped me.

And I love him.

But he's not my boyfriend.

{*_*_*}

The next day, school starts again, full of noise and chatter and teens of all ages.

As the most popular seniors, the Pretty Committee and I get right of way everywhere. We laugh and tease, grinning to each other about the inside jokes only we share.

"So, Claire, how's it going with Cam?" questions Alicia.

"Oh, it's great." I smile sunnily. "Just fabulous."

"That's great," Massie says sincerely. "I'm glad you guys are so happy together."

{*_*_*}

A week ago, I was the loving, caring girlfriend, the supportive, loyal best friend, and the perfect Omega.

Now, I'm cheating on Cameron Fisher with Josh Hotz, I'm betraying Alicia Rivera by doing it, and I'm sure I'd be kicked out of the Pretty Committee if they knew.

But they don't.

I guess it just goes to show that I'm not the flawless beauty everyone thinks I am.

But I'll never admit to doing any of this.

Having the best of both worlds (naughty _and_ nice) is _way_ better.

* * *

><p><strong>I know for a fact this one <em>really <em>doesn't make sense. So please tell me if you like it, because otherwise I'm going to assume it was horrible and you hated it (but tell me if that's the case too).**

**But as I said, I know this one is confusing, but I think it at least gets the message across.**

**Please, _please_, tell me what you think.**

**Heart ya,  
>Joy<strong>

**P.S. I think it can still be rated T, right?**


End file.
